Savor the Simple Things!

The smell of a freshly mown lawn.  A Meadowlark’s call on a sunny Saturday morning.  A big bag of cotton candy from the county fair.  These small things make my heart swell with happiness.  The bulk of our lives are filled with little moments, so if we can grab onto the good ones, I think we’ll find lots of contentment.

It’s been a busy week, so I thought I would share with you some of the things that make me happy.  I hope that they bring you some joy as well!

·         I love iced tea.  This tip comes from my fabulous mom:  Replace the regular tea bags you use to make iced tea with vanilla tea bags.  Trust me, you will love it!

·         Have some crayons lying around?  I dare you to spend 10 minutes coloring and not love it!  Ahhhh childhood.  We shouldn’t give it up so easily.

·         “On Golden Pond.”  Rent it.  You’ll fall in love with your spouse all over.

·         Check out this video about Sparky the Corgi on YouTube:  http://youtu.be/yD3yVwC0fjg        A) It will illustrate why Welsh Corgis are the best dogs ever.  B) No matter your mood, it will be improved.  I promise. 

·         Peanut butter spread thinly onto a warm flour tortilla and then rolled up makes for a wonderful snack….or dinner, depending on how much energy you have left after a long work day.

·         Take a walk with no technology in hand.  Skip your awesome MP3 playlist and just listen to nature do her thing.

·         Commit your favorite Bible verse or line of poetry or quote to memory.  There’s something so satisfactory about being able to pull out that passage or quote whenever you need it.

·         I swear that organizing my desk at work each night before I go home makes the morning so much better.  I used to scoff at the concept of Feng Shui, but I was wrong.  Feng Shui is legit (and difficult to spell)!

·         A five-minute heart-to-heart talk with your mom, dad, grandparent, or best friend is simply balm to the soul.

Okay gang, now add yours to the list!

Find Your Sweet Spot!

Have you ever wondered if you’re in the career that is perfect for you?  One that makes you feel like you are in the cruise lane and doing what you were created to do?  We all know that every job brings with it some frustration or bad days…those days when you groan all the way to work and watch the clock the whole day long.  But it is a beautiful thing to be in a place of deep-down contentment knowing that you’re in the exact place you were destined to be. 

It is a rare blessing that I was able to choose my career path in the 6^th grade and follow that path to a successful end.  I know that many people, even some of my students, graduate from high school without a clear direction for their lives.  One of my friends went to college without a formulated career plan and struggled to go to classes every day because it just didn’t feel purposeful.  She would sign up for classes at the beginning of the semester, struggle to attend them regularly, and then ultimately drop out within a few weeks’ time so she could recoup most of her tuition fees.  It must have been so frustrating to be in that position.  She was working a full time job to pay for tuition, but probably feared she was wasting her money without a firm plan for what to do with that education.  Of course, at the tender age of 18 it can be very difficult to even know yourself well enough to decide what you want to do with the rest of your life…a very daunting thing, indeed.   

I’m reading a great book on this very subject, Cure for the Common Life:  Living in Your Sweet Spot by Max Lucado.  This book helps readers examine themselves to determine where their hearts really lie, looking at their work lives to decide if their hearts and work are aligned in a way that is fulfilling.  Whether you are happy in your work life or have to drag yourself out of bed each day, this book provides a great lens to evaluate/re-evaluate where you are at in your career.  After reading the book, I believe that I am indeed where God wants me to be.  I feel very fortunate that I can say that.  Don’t get me wrong; my job (like any job) brings with it frustrations, exhaustion, and even “the Monday Blues.”  But feeling certain that I am where God wants me to be at this point in my life is very comforting and energizing. 

For those who feel the same as I do (or possibly for those who aren’t 100% fulfilled but are “stuck” in their jobs for financial or other reasons), Lucado has this advice:  “Work with enthusiasm, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people” (Ephesians 6:7).   He leads into this, which might seem to be a Herculean task, with an anecdote about Michelangelo.  Apparently Michelangelo preferred sculpting over painting.  However, he was offered a job painting a scene on the ceiling of a well-known chapel, and he agreed to do the work.  A project which was supposed to be short-term and small-scale turned into a four-year masterpiece.  According to Lucado, “An observer wondered why he focused such attention on the details of the corners of the chapel.  ‘No one will ever see them,’ he suggested.  Michelangelo’s reply?  ‘God will.’”

At the beginning of each school year I ask God to help me in one specific area of my life and teaching.  Every year it changes, and at the end of the school year I examine how God answered that prayer.  One of the things I plan to work on this year is changing my point of view about work.  It’s easy to get stuck in a rut, grumble about Mondays, lament all the work the job entails…believe me; I find myself in this space fairly regularly.  So, one of my goals this year is to view my teaching with eyes like Michelangelo’s.  Am I glorifying God in my work?  Am I grateful that I have a job that I have wanted to do since the sixth grade?  I am sure as I prepare to go back to work (Monday!) that this year will bring with it some challenges, some bad days, and lots and lots of essays to grade.  But I know that the more I learn to re-see my job through this new lens, the more God will sculpt me as a person.  And that’s pretty exciting.

Family Treasures....

Two of my favorite people:  Gramma and Mom

She has lived upon this earth for nearly 92 years.  She is small and spunky, kind and wise.  Everywhere she goes, people are surprised that she in in her 90’s, and this is because she not only looks younger (and is incredibly fashionable, I might add) but she also acts younger.  Her memory now is sharper than mine, and I am over half her age.  She prays for me and her family on a daily basis, which gives me so much courage during those days when I feel like I’ve been defeated.  During our time together, she has taught me the value of family and the graciousness of God. 

How fortunate I am to be able to call her both my friend and my grandma at the same time.

When I was young, my gramma and I enjoyed taking walks.  I don’t recall what we talked about during those walks (don’t rub it in that her memory is better than mine), but I am sure that our mutual love of cats came up frequently.  When my older sister was in Brownies, Gramma and I would go “shopping” at the grocery store.  Our shopping entailed walking up and down the aisles just to see what was on the shelves.  At Christmas, Gramma would bake all kinds of cookies:  those red and white cookies that are braided and shaped like candy canes, drop cookies with the Hershey’s Kiss in the middle, sugar cookies with frosting and sprinkle decorations, and green cookies shaped like holly leaves with Red Hots scattered on top.  She always let me put the walnuts in a device that chopped the nuts with the turn of a handle.  And she always let me lick the beaters when she’d bake a cake.

When I was a teenager, Gramma supported my sister’s and my “cultural growth” through ballet and music lessons.  In college, after I experienced my first heartbreak, it was Gramma who took me in her arms and told me that it was going to be okay, that God has a plan for me, and that she had been in my shoes as well.  She did find her true love and never looked back at her past romances with regret. 

After college, I began my teaching career at a small private Christian school where I made a mere $11,000 per year.  Because I couldn’t afford to rent my own apartment, I lived in my Gramma’s basement.  We had a very easy relationship.  One that didn’t require a lot of obligations on either side.  And like magic, one of us would suggest going out to dinner when the other one was thinking the exact same thing.  We’d watch Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy in the evenings, dozing in our chairs or reading magazines at the same time.  She loves my first cat, which I adopted during this time, as much as I do, and 16 years later my cat seems to have some of the same personality traits as my gramma has.  Must be why I love him so much. 

Now that I’m well into adulthood, Gramma still teaches me a lot about life and faith and family.  We can talk about anything.  Sometimes Gramma will tell stories about her past and then interrupt herself with, “Oh, I’ve probably already told you this before.”  The thing is, I love to hear her tell the same stories over and over again.  My hope is that they will become a part of my own flesh, stories that encourage and reaffirm all the traits that I love about my gramma and the rest of my family.  Her stories about my grandfather -- Grappa, as I like to call him – are often about what a wise and well-loved man he was.  She recounts how he was often overlooked in his family, and how Gramma found in him a treasure beyond belief.  When they were newly married, a walk downtown to get ice cream was all that her heart needed to feel his love.  She talks about her father, who was also somewhat of a misunderstood sort in his family, but who became the best mechanic in Coeur d’Alene, and could diagnose a car’s woes by merely listening to it.  I am regaled with stories about what Coeur d’Alene was like so many years ago, with tales of the family’s military travels throughout the years, and stories about all the pets they have had. 

These stories are an utter treasure to me.  They help me understand who she is, who my mom is, and really, who I am.  Talking with my gramma is as easy as those late-night conversations you might have with your best friend during a sleep over.  They are stories and lessons that I want to carry with me all the rest of my life, because they pull me closer to her than a warm winter quilt. 

Just two days ago we were chatting in the living room after having a bit of soup for lunch.  She was lamenting that her walking ability is a bit shaky…she now uses a cane to get around.  She wants to get some therapy to boost her confidence in herself, so that she doesn’t feel so dependent on “that blasted cane.”  And it was during this conversation that she gave me the most beautiful depiction of Jesus, one that will bring me comfort and hope for the rest of my life.  She said that when she is walking through her house and feels fear that she might fall, she asks Jesus to take her by the hand, just like He does every day.

What a blessing and a privilege to have my grandma so richly woven into my life.  I hope that all of you have someone (or many people) who fill your life with meaning as well.  If you do, don’t forget to let them know just how important they are to you.

Lessons from the Animal Shelter....

Kittens have a lot to teach us.  I know, you might think that kittens are just wide-eyed babies who think only of their next nap and next meal (which might be partially true), but really, they have a lot going on. 

I am fortunate enough to volunteer some of my time during summer vacation to help at the Kootenai Humane Society.  I go in the morning before the shelter opens to the public, and I get to help clean the cat cages, fill up their food and water dishes, give them comfy blankets, and hug and kiss on their furry heads.  I’ve learned a lot throughout my years at KHS:

•  Cat Litter:  It is much more economical to use wood stove pellets in the litter boxes instead of regular cat litter.  A thin layer of the pellets (barely covering the bottom of the box) does an excellent job of absorbing urine, and each morning we empty the entire box and give them a clean one.  You might think the cats don’t enjoy this form of litter, but they seem to take to it just fine. 

• Cleaning Cages (aka “Suites”):  Avoid harsh chemicals when cleaning cat areas.  Dawn dish detergent diluted in water makes a great cleaning solution, and it doesn’t have a harsh smell or dangerous ingredients that will harm cats.

• Fabuloso!  This purple liquid cleaner (a cheap cousin of Pine Sol) does a fantastic job of cleaning shelter floors and leaves a fresh scent.  We add a splash to the mop water when we are ready to prepare the shelter for the public.  It’s cheap, too.  I think you can find it at, of all places, the Dollar Store.

• Fussy Cats:  Not all cats who swipe a paw at you are being mean.  Sometimes they are saying, “Wait!  Don’t stop petting me!  I like it!”  Sometimes a swat is merely a knee-jerk reaction, and if you just smile and talk gently and pet them some more they will warm up quickly to the love.  But sometimes they are just fussy.  And that’s okay, too.

• Frozen Water Bottles:  To cool off the rabbits and rodents, we freeze water bottles (peel the labels off first) and put them inside the cages with the critters.  These make excellent air conditioners, and the rabbits in particular enjoy stretching out against them to cool off. 

There are plenty more shelter lessons I can share, but I’ve digressed from the original topic:  Kittens.  Those wise, venerable little fluff balls have a lot to teach us.  Here are a few kitten lessons I have gathered throughout the years:

•  Have Fun No Matter What!  Kittens really know how to find fun in pretty much any situation.  Cleaning their cage?  Well this is sure a plethora of fun for kittens.  They get to chase your hand as you wipe the cage walls.  Giving them a clean litter box?  Now they have a fresh arsenal of wood pellets to knock one-by-one to the floor you’ve just swept.  Putting a hammock in their cage?  Now they can run and jump and wage aerial attacks against their siblings.  (By the way, hammocks are an essential shelter cage accessory.  Cats and kittens absolutely love them.  The best ones have carabineer clips at each of the corners and simply clip onto the bars of the cages.  And cats look adorable chilling out in their hammocks).

•  Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff:  Did someone drop a metal dog bowl with a loud clang?   No worries!  Kittens simply find this noise to be a new distraction and/or point of interest.  Did some of their water slosh out of their dish?  No problem!  Now they can splash around and get their cage-mates wet, too.  Is a broom sweeping around their cage?  Not a distraction to a kitten!  It’s fun to watch the broom and floor debris scatter around on the floor.  Fun!

• Even When You’re Sick, Life is Still Pretty Good:  Today I cleaned a cute little black kitten’s cage.  He was in the sick room, probably for sneezes or something minor.  I opened the cage door (it was bottom cage and near the floor) and that “sick” kitten made a break for it.  Thankfully David had shut the sick room door, so the little guy didn’t make too big of an escape.  When I finally grabbed him, I decided to put him in an empty cage so I could clean his cage in peace.  I gave him a few toys, and that “sick” kitten had a rousing good time for at least ½ hour playing with his toys and rattling the cages of all his neighbors. 

• Everything Is a Toy if You Are Creative Enough:  Also in sick room today was a veritable herd of kittens (six in all) in one very large cage.  David needed my help in wrangling the kittens so we could clean their cage, which is no easy feat.  We gathered all of our supplies and I waited at the cage door.  Torti kittens were playing on top of their covered litter box, an orange kitten was sitting inside his food dish, two kittens were wrestling with an empty paper towel roll, and one kitten was playing with stray pieces of kitten food on its towel.  When they saw David and I prepare to gather them up, they lined up with sincere eagerness and waited for us to grab three kittens a piece (an armload of kittens is very good for the soul) and put them in an empty cage to play while we worked.

The cats (and people) at KHS have taught me very practical lessons over the years, and it does my heart good to spend two mornings per week in the simple act of cleaning and feeding and loving them.  While it might seem that the handful of hours per week is my way of helping them, I have a strong suspicion that I’m getting much more from them than they are getting from me. 

We're Not Firing on All Cylinders

I have been thinking about Heaven a lot lately.  I’ve been wondering what it will be like, feel like, smell like….What will I do in Heaven?  I suspect it will be something animal-related, maybe tending to critters, playing with them, feeding the penguins fish (yes, please!), maybe organizing Corgi conventions…that sort of thing.  I wonder what each day will bring and whether or not I will spend a lot of time interviewing the great Biblical and historical figures to find out more about their lives.  Will we sleep?  What will we eat?  How will we spend our time and interact with others?  What will it be like to see Jesus face-to-face?  It’s fun to ponder, and I know that my little pea-brain can’t possibly fathom what is in store.  But I’m looking forward to it.  For one thing, my knees won’t creak and pop in Heaven.  That’s a total bonus.

I might have one little analogy that helps you to think about Heaven (I’m an analogy girl; must be the literary nerd in me).  My paternal grandfather is in his late 80’s.  He is a kind, gentle, funny man who is honest and whip-smart.  I love hearing stories about his life because I feel that I have much to learn from him.  When he was in his 60’s he had to have a surgery to fix a deviated septum in his nose.  Over dinner one night he told the story of his surgery and said, “I didn’t even know that I had a deviated septum.  When I finally healed I realized that breathing is a whole lot easier.  I thought everyone experienced breathing the way I did, but after that surgery I realized I had been struggling to breathe my whole life!”

                                                                                                              
This story struck me because my grandfather spent over 60 years of his life having to work hard to breathe through his nose.  For over half of his life he didn’t realize that breathing was much easier than he realized.  So for over 60 years this hard-working Kentucky bluegrass farmer probably had a much more difficult time in the heat and exertion of farm life.  But then he got to experience breathing in a whole new way:  easier, more effective, simply better.

The more I thought about this story, the more I began to equate it with Heaven.  Here on earth we humans are living in a land that we don’t belong in.  Our true home is with God, but while we are here on earth we have work to do.  Our eyes probably don’t see as perfectly as they were designed to see.  Our taste buds are perhaps not fully appreciating the foods we eat.  Our brains might not be processing information as quickly as they could.  And our hearts might not experience emotions with the purity that God intended.  For all we know, breathing is even harder here on earth. 

So, when you wake up and feel your knees creak or your body groan, take heart that down here life can be a challenge, but in Heaven we will be running on all cylinders just as we were designed. 

Do All Dogs (and cats and guinea pigs, and bunnies and horses....) Go to Heaven?

Look at that face. 
I can totally see a shiny halo on her head.

It has been a hard few weeks in our household.  Merely a week after our Persian cat, “The Fur” (AKA Angel) passed away, our 13 year old Welsh Corgi Mandy succumbed to cancer.  My husband and I made the very difficult decision to allow our veterinarian to put Mandy to sleep so that she wouldn’t suffer from the multiple tumors that had spread throughout her body and onto her lungs, making her breathing very labored and difficult.  I am certain that we made the most humane decision possible, given the circumstances.  The loss of our very good dog was incredibly hard on me.  I am so grateful that I could kiss her face and hold her in her last moments, and I know that our stubborn Corgi was quite tired from her fight. 

I cried for days over Mandy’s death.  I think I even slipped into a bit of depression because the grief was so intense.  I know that some people might say, “It’s just an animal.  Move on.  Get a new dog.  It’ll be fine.”  But I am one of those people who look at pets as a part of the family.  And Mandy was truly my little sidekick.  We’d take walks together, go for drives together, lounge on the boat in the sun…when we went to a friend’s house, Mandy came along.  She snored next to me on her dog bed, licked my face when I’d do yoga at night, and brought her squeaky ball to me to throw.  She was truly the perfect dog.  Losing her devastated me.

At the peak of my sorrow, I contacted my pastor through Facebook to ask him a question that I’ve wondered about all my life:  Do pets and animals go to heaven?  I have always insisted that yes, pets go to heaven.  Of course, right?  Heaven would be missing something if our beloved pets weren’t there to greet us.  God loves us and blesses us with family, friends, and our pets, so I can’t imagine that God would not include them in our grand entrance into Heaven.  I’ve always imagined that when I enter Heaven I will see my childhood dog Skipper-Roo standing next to my Grappa, just waiting to say hello.  And I want to see all of my beloved pets, including Mandy-Dee, when I walk through those glorious gates.

Unfortunately, there are no specific verses in the Bible that speak about the eternal fate of our pets.  My beliefs about pets in Heaven have been based purely on a gut-instinct.  A hunch.  A mega-hope.  And then the wonderful Pastor Bob caught me at church to chat about this issue.

He said that he loves this topic because it is fairly contentious.  There are people strongly on either side of the question, and with no precise verse in the Bible to settle the issue, I’m sure the debates are exciting.  But I suspect that Pastor Bob loves a rousing theological debate perhaps as much as a good Muay thai spar (maybe even more).  Well guess what?  Pastor Bob has good news:  The Bible indicates that pets indeed go to Heaven!  And Pastor Bob has more than a hunch to support his thoughts.  Here they are:

Ecclesiastes 3:19-20

^“For what happens to the children of man and what happens to the beasts is the same; as one dies, so dies the other. They all have the same breath, and man has no advantage over the beasts, for all is vanity.  All go to one place. All are from the dust, and to dust all return.”  Check it out:  “All (children of man and beasts) go to one place…”  Some people suggest that mankind is “superior” to animals, or that animals do not have souls.  First of all, who can actually verify whether or not animals have souls?  How do we know that animals don’t have souls?  God created animals, so who are we humans to think that somehow human life trumps the life of all of creation.  Didn’t God enjoy making all creation?  Genesis indicates that God took great pleasure in the creation of all things.  Certainly God takes pleasure in the animals he placed on Earth and would agree with me that Welsh Corgis are simply adorable.  As well He should.

Romans 8:19, 22-25

^“For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God… For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.   And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.   For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees?   But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.”  Pastor Bob thought it was noteworthy that often the Bible speaks of “creation” rather than simply “man.”  This collective term, he decided, includes mankind, goofy Welsh Corgis and crusty-faced Persian cats, along with all other animals.

This affirmation from Pastor Bob gave me much to smile about.  I found that shortly after our conversation I became able to recall memories of Mandy without shedding tears.  The thought that I will get to see her again gives me great comfort and hope, and as I look at my almost 16 year old cat, I don’t feel dread regarding his eventual death.  God gave me each of our pets, and they have crawled their way deep into my heart.  I want to love them to the fullest while they are here on Earth, and I nurture images of our eventual reunion in our glorious afterlife.  Let’s be truthful:  Let’s say that pets don’t, in fact, go to Heaven.  I know that I’m going to be so enthralled with getting to hang out with Jesus face-to-face that this will be enough to nourish my soul for several eternities.  And something tells me that if Skipper-Roo, Gracie-Poo, Mandy-Dee and all my other pets past, present, and future are not waiting there to jump on me and get hair all over my angel’s robe (or whatever we wear in Heaven), I am not going to notice.  But it gives me incredible peace to know that my fabulous Pastor thinks that they will all be there waiting for me. 

Which means I need to bring a few extra rolls of packaging tape with me when I walk through those pearly gates.  That tape has been instrumental in quickly getting pet hair off of my clothes as I’m trying to get out the door for work.  Trust me, with a Corgi in the house, I have become a pet-hair-removal expert.

The Power of Tears

As a little kid I was considered tough and tomboyish.  On my first day of school at Borah Elementary, I recall, even at the tender age of six, that I decided that I wasn’t going to cry.  The reason was that I didn’t want to make my mom feel bad when she had to leave me behind in that classroom.  When I had to go from my mom’s house to my dad’s house for visitation, I refused to cry for fear that it would send the wrong message to my divorced parents, so I learned how to hold those tears inside until I went to bed at night.  When my dad moved to Maui and my sister and I had to travel over the Pacific Ocean for our six weeks visit, I remember holding in my tears until I took a shower that night, where I cried my heart out with homesickness and washed the evidence down the drain. 

I grew up telling myself that being able to hold in my tears was a sign of inner strength, and maybe it was to some degree.  But I’ve decided that letting the tears flow openly and without any shame or embarrassment might actually take more strength than keeping them locked behind stubborn eyelids.

Today my husband and I had to take one of our cats to the veterinarian to be euthanized.  She was around 15 years old and had been losing weight at an alarming rate.  This past winter we took her to the vet for a checkup; the vet was sure that she had a thyroid imbalance, but the blood work came back inconclusive – according to the numbers on her chart, she was just fine.  She had taken to caterwauling throughout the night, and began moving very slowly.  This morning as I walked past the laundry room I found her collapsed on the linoleum floor.  I gathered her up, put her in a soft cat bed, tucked a blanket around her, and waited for Chad to come home.  Once we arrived at the vet’s office, a vet tech came in to evaluate her.  The veterinarian hadn’t arrived at the office yet, and so the kind technician told us our options.  As she did, the tears started to flow down my face.  And I didn’t even try to stop them, even though somewhere deep inside me the old urge to “suck it up” struggled to emerge. 

I think I know what makes crying in front of others (especially strangers) so difficult:  Crying is a very vulnerable and exposed thing to do.  It reveals emotions that are deep and personal, kind of putting those emotions on display for others to see.  It’s also difficult to allow others to enter into our personal lives in such an intimate way.  For me, I also fear that by crying openly, I am somehow burdening those around me with feelings they may not know how (or want) to contend with. 

I’ve decided, though, that allowing myself to cry openly, even in a public place, allows me to be who I am and truthful with myself and others.  They are being allowed into a vulnerable place in my life, and I think I can trust most people to enter into my life with kindness and grace.  In fact, I think that allowing others to see me cry actually deepens my relationships with them.  It’s me saying to them, “I trust you enough to be unguarded with you.”  And ultimately it tells others that they can be unguarded with me as well. 

We made the difficult but merciful choice to allow our vet to put our cat to sleep, and as we sat in that vet office we both shed many tears.  Even my big, tough railroading husband openly cried for the loss of that stubborn, trouble-making, white Persian cat.